


we're stars, you know

by starboys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboys/pseuds/starboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis has a fascination with stars, harry loves flowers, and they are both going to die soon.<br/>-or a hunger games au-</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're stars, you know

**Author's Note:**

> okay this is coming along slowly but surely. im going to keep updating it on here so you guys can see the progress of it...  
> edit 123113: sorry for the poor excuse of it right now... break hasn't been much of a break yet. i have the ending all planned out, though! hah.

There's a big blue, open sky. It almost flows as one with the expanse of ocean, the waves crashing and rolling along the shore. Maybe one day the ocean will become the sky, and the sky will be the ocean. One day the sky could roll and swirl, bringing the fish and salt with it. Or maybe the ocean will become the sky. Stars swimming in an inky black nothing. Galaxies and planets drifting in and out of the new ocean.

But, the way it's going right now proves it's only a silly idea.

Louis shakes his head. The things he dreams of must come from Pheobe. Next thing you know, Louis may be contemplating over whether or not anyone could set foot on the stars, bouncing from one to another like hopscotch. It would probably tickle, like little tiny cotton tips on your toes. Or what if they would swallow you up. Take you in and give you a blanket like warmth. There's no cares in the world for stars. Stars just float in the ink. They don't care about things like the Hunger Games. They probably don't care about when they will die. Stars don't care about whether or not they can feed their sisters, tonight, tomorrow, or a year from now for that matter.

Honestly, Louis has a horrible fascination with stars.

≡

Violet Rosehearty always has such an odd sense of fashion. This year, it must be gems. Violet sparkles like a diamond, or a sapphire. Or a star. She glows with a radiance, a type of noble charm. Her hair a silvery-purple, a boxy, symmetrical red, blue and green twinkling dress. And her shoes? Why it must be the crystals themselves that she's balancing on. The pale pink winking at the crowd, almost giving them a headache. Then again, who could ever look away from a star.

As Louis marvels at the gleaming, Miss. Rosehearty taps on the microphone. "This year is special, isn't it?" Violet smiles, paying no attention to what she's saying. She probably doesn't know people are dreading this day. Doesn't know how people scream and cringe at the thought of her presence. Because she doesn't have to worry like them. Violet doesn't have to spend hours and hours agonizing about what her family would do if she someday left them forever. And Louis feels sorry for her.

"As you all know from our dear president's announcement, this year four tributes will be reaped. How exciting is that? Two male and females from each district; forty-eight tributes in one arena!" It's not exciting, and everyone knows that. It's horrifying, and Louis is trembling at this idea. He has now not 13 chances of being thrown into the Hunger Games, but 26. Twenty-six possibilities of him dying, maybe a most horrible death. At the hands of someone he could know. Before he can think anymore, Violet ends her small break she probably intended for them to agree about the excitement in. "I know, it's now an even worse chance you may be reaped, but we are from District Four, and we can win if we put our minds to it," she gleams, studying the silent, and some tearful residents in the crowd, "As we all know, ladies first."

Her gem heels click against the concrete as she makes her way to the glass bowls, filled with names. Louis's friend's fates are in that bowl. Their lives are in the bowl, their futures. Violet dips her hand in, pulling at a few, before dropping them back in. Finally she picks the two girls, the two who are wishing and hoping that those aren't their names. But they are. They are, and Louis feels so, so sorry for them. For their families, their lovers, and their friends. Violet walks back to the microphone, opening the first slip.

Louis knows it's not his sisters. Even the eldest has one year, this year, to wait. To enjoy her childhood before being thrown into the crowd of young adults he is in now. Louis knows that, but he can't stop worrying. It's silly, and he can only breathe again when Violet calls out the first female tribute's name. "Wren Greenlaw." Her small, soft voice reads out. And Louis knows her. Louis knows Wren, knows that her favorite color is red, and she has a brother. He knows how high she scores on her tests, that she's smart, and her knots are unbreakable.

That's when he breaks. Because he knows Wren, and it hurts his heart to see her delicate frame walk up the steps to where Violet is grinning at the first tribute. Because as long as Louis has participated, paid attention to the tributes, he's only slightly known them. Only known that he had them for his boating class, or seen them walking home after school. But this year, Wren's the first he actually knows.

Once again, Violet is opening another slip, and Louis wants to sob. He doesn't want this to happen, but it has too. Because someone fifty years ago thought it would be a good idea to watch young adults kill others their own age. It's sick, and makes Louis want to throw up, but he has to stay calm. His sisters are probably watching him, to see how he reacts. Hell, all of Panem is watching District Four as they slightly crumble, piece by piece, year by year.

Violet reads the paper, and waits a moment. "Pomeline Vipointe. Please come up, Pomeline." Louis feels whole again, because it's only Wren now. Only Wren that is going in. Because Louis knows for a fact that Wren has to be the only one he loves to go in. He can't go in, fate wouldn't allow it. Fate wants him to be happy, and putting one more person he cares for in the arena would send him spiraling down into a world of sadness, and despair.

"Now for the males." Violet reads out, shutting Louis off from his ideas. She sparkles her way to the other glass bowl, and waits no time to pull out the slips. It's too soon before she shines her way to the microphone once again, and only what seems like a second before she reads off the first name. Louis freezes, shuts everything off as she speaks, letting himself numb. "Harry Styles."

And it's okay, he feels whole again. Harry Styles is just a name. Just a boy who's probably going to die, as morbid as that sounds. But, that's okay because it'll only be Wren. Fate wouldn't allow him to go in with her. That would just be odd. Fate doesn't care for odd things, Louis has noticed.

Then again Fate has a mind of it's own.

But, there's a boy with a curly mop of hair and sad, sad, sad green eyes, filled with sad, sad tears walking up the cold steps. It makes Louis sad, and makes the whole crowd, the whole of Panem most likely so, so sad. Heart-breakingly forlorn. That's when everyone is rooting for this Harry Styles, for him to live a long and happy life. And Louis is wishing that someday he can play among the stars, no one that perfect and vulnerable should ever die. Live on among the glittery spots in the distance is more like it.

Violet wipes a fake tear from her painted face, and puts on a forced-to-look-forced smile. She isn't so much like a star to Louis anymore. Star's are genuine, not painted to look fake. Fake isn't glowing, fake isn't beautiful. Violet Roseharty is a fake star, like the ones he painted on his ceiling. They don't shine.

Harry's up on the stage, to the left side of Violet, looking like a boy would if he'd just been told death will greet him with open arms in the next two weeks. It pains Louis's heart; a star that shines so bright should never be cold and alone. And too soon, Violet is announcing that she will pick the next male tribute. Louis realizes that his name is still in there, the twenty-six slips on shell white papers that decide what he is going to do with his life.

Louis knows he isn't going to do much. He's going to work on his father's boat, might be upgraded to captain someday. Fisherman on the cool blue sea for his years to come. Louis has known this for all 18 years of his life. When he was catching fish with his bare hands on the coast, he knew this. When he got his first real fishing pole he knew this. He knew this when his father looked at him like he did the sea, and said "You'll be a great captain, someday, Louis." But, the thought of going into an arena with 47 other blood-thirsty teens is making his blood run cold. As Violet digs her hand into the papers one last time, Louis knows who it is before her thin fingers pull the name out. He knows who it is as she's making her way back to the microphone. When she's unfolding her paper, Louis stands up straight because he knows who it is. Fate does tricky things, and Fate likes to play with Louis. A lot.

When she reads out his name, Louis isn't phased. Because he's known for the past fifteen seconds that it was him. He knew it deep down in his gut, and he's okay with that. As horrible as it seems, Louis is glad he's being chosen. Louis's life has always been boring, and now he's either going to die, or become a legend. Louis knows that these two options are so much better than becoming a fisherman. A fisherman spends all his time out at sea. Bouncing along with the stars seems like a better idea.

He walks up the stairs, feeling hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. Louis can feel the six pairs of eyes who are crying the hardest, especially. It hurts, so so much. It pains Louis to think about how he is going to have to leave them, or come back a new person. Who's seen so much, seen people die. Saw people hurt.

Violet nods at him, smiling as she motions for him to stand next to Harry. "Shake hands, boys." She whispers softly, looking at the pair of them.

That's when Louis gets a full look at Harry. The first thing he notices is his eyes. Green, green, green. Like the grass that grows in bunches among the sandy soil. Like the paints that Louis sometimes gets for holidays, green like the palms that thrive along the beaches. Harry's eyes are like stars, green stars. Green stars that glow and sparkle brighter than Violet's dress could ever beam. Brighter than even the stars themselves. Then Louis notices the rest of Harry. Curls, swishing up at the ends to form perfect ringlets. Spiraling and sticking to the sides of his face, the heat affecting even the brightest of the citizens in four. Then there are cheekbones that could probably cut through glass and diamonds if you were to test them. Rosy red lips that pucker out at the bottom. And Louis knows Harry is nearly perfect.

It sounds like a romance story, the ones where his sisters describe the Prince Charming's exactly like Harry. Louis thinks of how his sisters would love him, how they would play with his curls and pull at his cheeks. Tell him how someday he'll find his true love, because the princess is waiting for him, too.

But life's not a fairy tale and Louis is going to die soon.

Now there's Violet smiling at the crowd for the final time this year. "District Four, our tributes for this year's 50th Hunger Games!" The citizens looks up at the four kids on the stage. Four teenagers, all destined to perish in the next two weeks. It's an ugly, and horrible tradition. So, when the crowd only looks upon them with sad, sad eyes, Louis wants to be among them, only staring up at someone other than the four that are up on this stage. Because no one should feel sad.

Violet leads them through the heavy wood doors of the justice building, placing them each in their own separate rooms. Louis wishes he was with Harry. He wishes he would be happy again.

≡

The capitol was always described as paradise. Louis's teachers would say how there are golden doors, and pink rooftops. Chandeliers glittering in the most common of homes. Sidewalks that played melodies as you made your way to work, or to the shops. Frankly, Louis didn't believe it one bit. Why, in all of existence, would one little district get aqua carpets and lemon yellow walls? Why couldn't District Four get them as well?

Louis has hated the capitol ever since his fifth grade class did their unit on it. They stole all of the good that the other districts should get as well. When he later found out about the poorer districts, 10, 11, and 12, Louis hated them even more. As they were enjoying crystal seats, his people in Four were fishing for their parties.

He hates every person associated with the capitol; every single citizen who boasts of their silks and wigs towering on top of their heads. The imitation, stained people who called themselves stars.

≡

Speeding towards the one thing Louis hates, he meets the two male and female victors of previous years. Mags and Leonis both exchange brief words with Louis, who sits in the main car, before wandering off to find the other three tributes.

Louis feels bad for not finding Wren. She's probably suffering just as bad as Louis. Wren could be withering inside like the roses his mother occasionally plants in the spring. Who then die in the fall, as the sun starts to fade and the stars start to play. She could be dying so slowly like we all are doing, at this very moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees a star. A bright, glowing star that smiles at him as he sits across from Louis in the soft, dark blue velvet seats. The star sits on his toes, and stares at Louis as Louis stares at the star.

"It's not polite to goggle at one before introducing yourself." The star speaks. And oh, the star even sounds like the sparkle he looks like. Louis just wants to stare even more, find the buttons and switches that surely lay under his clothes. Louis wants to explore and find all of the alien's sparks and wires, find out how they got there and what they connect too. He wants to learn more about the star.

After a moment, Louis remembers he hasn't yet replied to the star. "Oh, right, yes I'm sorry. No, wait, my name's not sorry. It's Louis." He stumbles over his words like he stumbles over the rocks as he runs in the rain. The star nods and holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Well, not sorry it's Louis, I'm Harry. Harry Styles if you want to get into the details."

The star smiles a smile so much like home, and it makes Louis wants to scream and cry and laugh all at the same time. He takes Harry's hand and shakes it gently, not wanting the tingly feeling, like little tiny cotton tips, to stop as he does. Louis bobs his head, acknowledging Harry's introduction. "I'd love to get into the details." Louis counters, maybe a bit late, but he has a sudden rush of confidence and wants to use it.

Harry laughs a bubbly laugh that feels like the soda Louis got once, a dark night at the end of the 37th Hunger Games. It must have been Leonis, who miraculously survived a knife to the side. The doctors said it missed his lung by the smallest bit as they recapped the games. District Four had parties for days, pipes and violins playing their merry tunes day in and day out.

"I'm sure you do, Louis. Are you excited for the games?" The star asks. And oh, it's a silly, stupid question. Nobody, aside from the volunteers would be excited to compete and kill and die. Louis wants to scream at the star to not be daft, not be open-minded that Louis may be excited. He wants to yell and scream at the star to tell Louis that it will be alright. But he can't because Harry is a star and hurting stars is a crime punishable by death, Louis thinks.

So Louis thinks about the sea in the spring as the icy cold water from the north travels along his coast. Feels it wash over his emotions and cool his temper down, before he answers. "Of course I'm not. Are you excited to die, Harry?" Louis inquires. Maybe he's being rude, and he's probably a bit harsh, but there's still a small flame that wants to burn Harry for his idiotic questions. Wants to watch as the blazes lick and swipe at his alien skin. But, that's not something a nice man would say to a person.

Harry looks as Louis for a moment, his head cocked to the side as he ponders Louis's query. "Yes, I think I am." That's not what Harry was supposed to say, but yet he said it. He said it so simply and without any hint of a joke.

Louis might even agree with him, actually.

≡

The train ride ensued a mix of survival tactics and old jokes, mainly from Leonis. Louis made a point to remember some for Lottie, who loves her jokes. He remembers a tid-bit on how to make a fire for the games. Louis wants to save everything.

They pull into the train station, packed with colors. Glitter and gems are the fashion, Louis notices. Violet had been following capitol trends after all. There are large hats with butterflies the colors of trees on them, dresses that poof out at extravagant places. One woman even has large crystals implanted in her pupils, shining rainbows onto everything she looks at.

Louis hates the capitol even more.

After a few moments of screeching, the train stops, and the crowd engulfs the doors. Screams ring out, asking Harry to marry someone. Hands grab at Louis clothes, begging for him to kiss the man. Someone gets over the barriers and latches onto Pomeline. Her screams echo around the platform, as she swipes at the citizen to get off of her. It's astounding, really.

The capitol is crazy.

Louis watches as the citizens jump over each other to get to the tributes, watches as their attentions get redirected back to the train platform. He observes how, that when the tributes from five come waling out, they give them the exact same treatment.

And maybe Louis is a bit offended, how the crowd surges towards the other tributes instead of fonding over his little group. But, all too soon, Harry is tugging on Louis shirt, motioning for him to follow Violet's lead.  
The crowd thins, both as they rush forward to greet the other's, and as they get to the car waiting for them. A short ride takes them to a grand, glass building. Sunlight pouring out even from behind the clouds allows it to bounce off, casting rainbows onto the pavement where the car let's them off. Colors contrasting against skin proves just how pale Harry is, even given the status of where he lives.  
Louis should say lived, as bad as he wants to keep everything about Harry present tense, till' the day Harry dies, a beautiful, and calm one. Not killed, murdered by someone his own age.  
The colors from the glass beam and glow as they make their way to the doors. Louis is amazed by the grandeur when they walk in, the crystal and marble divergence. The cool, smooth white blocks of marble and the clear, pure, diamond-like sheen of the crystal. "Now," Violet interrupts, "we will be residing on the fourth floor, like we always do. It's by districts, you know." She nods, gesturing towards the elevator. "The other tributes will be here shortly I presume. We always like to get a head start, however." Violet smiles, a sweet, oh so innocent smile, as if she wants the other contestants get to the Capitol sooner. As if she wants them all to sing, and dance together. Maybe, just maybe, they can when they die. ≡ There's a sickly sweet taste to the air, as they make their way into their living quarters. It's clear, and clean, and there's pastel colors on every surface. There's a sheen to everything, like the stars gave some of their dust to the world, as an offering. Louis likes to think it's all for him, the stardust. Harry ends up staying in the room opposite Louis's. Wren is just beside his, and Pomeline across from Wren. Violet and Leonis


End file.
